Standing at a Crossroads.

At a crossroads staring up at the bleak sky, the moon barely a sliver. Unable to focus on a single thought. What am I to do?

Storm clouds begin to gather, seemingly from every direction. How long have I been standing here?

Is that something in the trees? I can barely make out a shape, or maybe shapes? Wait… When did the trees appear?

What am I to do?

…

 

 

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